


Bad Hair Day

by Jeldenil



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bottom Lucius Malfoy, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Smut, mention of infidelity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-18 18:29:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16124264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeldenil/pseuds/Jeldenil
Summary: Lucius has important business to attend at Hogwarts. And a vague acquaintance to see.





	Bad Hair Day

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks go out to my wonderful beta, [ Aka Shika ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkaShika/pseuds/AkaShika), who squealed and beta'd.

He loves the way his robes swirl around his ankles with each self-important stride through the ancient castle. He’s an important man, on important business, and his whole presence just breathes power. He picked those robes with care that morning, batting the eager elfs away when they tried to help him dress. 

“Go help the child.” 

He has a child now, a son, a heir to his name, and Hogwarts is in dire need of stricter supervision. The boy is three years old, it is high time his Father makes his presence known. Of course, it is not forgotten. He is not forgotten. The Board of Governors has expressly asked - begged- for his involvement. Just like he’d arranged with Basil Fawley, under threat of another scandal. 

And now he is on his way to his first meeting. It is to take place in the Headmaster’s Office, and that’s the only thing he doesn’t like about the set-up. The nosy old man is too clever, he knows too much. Lucius has to count on Severus to keep Dumbledore in check. 

Ah, Severus. The younger man is the very reason that Lucius is particularly well-dressed this day, although nobody would ever hear him admit to it. But his form-fitting, charcoal robes with dark green trimming are made to impress one man, and one man only. And if they happen to come off easily, it’s a simple bonus. 

He suffers through the Board Meeting, and Dumbledore’s scrutiny-masked-as-joviality. He establishes a first carefully laid little rule, designed to look benign and worded just right to grant him a semblance of power over staff recruitment in the future, once it will be necessary. He can’t care less about who trains the current students. As long as they stay away from Severus. Severus is his. 

When he leaves the room, he is pleased to find the very man his thoughts kept drifting towards throughout the last excruciating hour come up behind him. He halts in his step, and Severus places a pale, elegant hand on his shoulder, his breath on Lucius’ neck. Lucius shivers. 

“Would you care to visit the dungeons now you’re here?” It’s spoken low, almost monotonously, but Lucius feels the power of that voice through his entire body.

“If you insist, Severus. I don’t have much time,” he lies in just as flat a voice, and he just knows that Severus is smiling. 

They walk unhurriedly, no hint of anything between them besides a vague familiarity.

“I hear you expanded your grounds once again,” Severus drawls. He was the one suggesting it, pointing out the Muggle farmer living to the south of Lucius’ land was desperate for a sale. It had been a bargain.

“You are well-informed. What is it again that you do?” Lucius is well-aware of Severus’ occupation, having groomed him ever since the younger man started his education. 

“I am the current Potions teacher. Horace retired last year.” 

“Ah, of course. How lucky.” Lucius had always known Severus would outdo their teacher - there was no luck involved; only sheer talent and hard work. And perhaps some well-meaning advice from a simple Member of the Board. 

When they reach the dungeons, Lucius is momentarily caught up in a bout of nostalgia as the wall opens for them. There’s a tunnel leading towards the students’ common room, and another one leading to Severus’ private quarters. They follow the latter.

Stepping into his office, Lucius is a tad impatient with the door, magicking it closed with an audible bang. 

“Eager, are you?” Severus’ voice has a new quality to it now, confident and amused, and it is all Lucius can do to nod when the man steps into his personal space again, running his hand up Lucius’ thigh and hip, landing on his waist.

“Silk? How lavish, just like you. I like it.” 

“I was hoping you would.” 

Their lips crash together in a hard, hungry kiss. Severus pushes him back against the desk that is standing in the middle of the room. Lucius lets out a very undignified whimper. There isn’t anything that’s romantic about their encounters. They are urgent, driven by lust and power alone. They don’t love each other, but they work. Somehow. The greasy, unkempt halfblood and the poised, meticulously groomed aristocrat. Severus is everything he was taught to loathe. And everything he wants in a man. 

Hurried hands make quick work of the buttons on front of his robes. Underneath them, he’s naked, hard and hot under Severus’ cool, rough fingers. 

“You’re so very debauched for me,” Severus says, making him thrust into his hand. “What would your father say, I wonder?”

“Shut up,” Lucius groans. He doesn’t want to think about his father. Or his wife. Or his son. He’s not here for them. He’s here for him. 

“You get so crude when you’re in my hand,” Severus smirks. “Like you weren’t born with a silver spoon in your mouth.” He squeezes him, strokes, and pumps. And Circe, it feels far too good. 

“Just… Severus, please.” He’s already down to begging, and if it wasn’t just like they both wanted, it would be utterly humiliating. 

“Turn around,” Severus says, and lets go. Lucius snarls, but doesn’t protest. He turns and Severus lifts his robes, sliding cold hands up the back of Lucius’ thighs, fingers prying between them and stroking his testes. Lucius can’t help but push into his touch, needing more. 

“I like it when you get eager,” Severus tells him. His hand lifts, and Lucius whines at the loss of contact. Severus lets out a low chuckle and smacks Lucius’ arse, flat-handed. Lucius hisses, and his cock jumps. He knows he will need to mask the mark with one of Severus’ excellent balms later. He loves it. 

“Don’t make me wait,” Lucius growls, and earns himself another smack. Severus tuts at him. Lucius is already hot and bothered enough, they both know it. But this is the game they play, and it’s anyone’s guess how long Severus will make him wait this time. Fingers tickle and caress his buttocks, slip along his crack, tease his balls and cock. None of it is enough and all of it is too much. He’s moaning, grinding, whining. Nobody would recognise in him the cold, powerful, pureblood patriarch. He looks and behaves like a common whore, and he knows it. He taught Severus how to manipulate. Severus taught him how to let go. 

Finally, finally, he hears the familiar woosh when Severus non-verbally summons his jar of exquisite, self-made lubricant. He feels it drip copiously over his taut arse, colder even than Severus’ hands. He feels it getting massaged along his crack, and inside his tight, eager hole. He hears the rustle of fabric behind him as Severus bares himself. He never gets to see him - he’s always turned around or blinded - but he gets to feel him. 

Severus’ thick, large cock is getting forced inside him without much ceremony. It hurts, and Lucius’ eyes sting. He swallows and whines, and one of Severus’ hands finds its way into his hair, pulling hard. His face is pushed down against the rough wood of Severus’ desk, while the hot, hard flesh is burning its way inside him. He whimpers, and in response, his head gets yanked back harshly. He lets out a desperate cry, but Severus has no mercy. He pulls back and slams back in again, hard. Lucius crumbles under his treatment, reduced to a pliant, moaning mess. 

He loves it when Severus gets this rough with him, loves to get fucked like some kind of prop. It is all wrong, but it is just so right, too. Behind him, Severus is starting to make noises. Starting to sound almost human as he grunts and pants and curses every time he fucks into Lucius’ tight arse. Praises him for being such a good, filthy slut. Scolds him for being needy. Lucius is sobbing, pleasure mixed with pain making him incoherent. He doesn’t have any control over himself left. He bites into the back of his hand, groaning. His other hand slips between his legs and he’s frantically tossing off, like a horny teenager just discovering what his body can do. Severus laughs, and Lucius momentarily fears that he’ll be told to stop, but there is mercy now. He’s allowed to continue, encouraged to come.

“Just for me, Lucius. Tell me nobody can make you come as hard as I do.”

“Merlin, I… Fuck… Only you, S-Severus…”

His orgasm shakes him, tears and spit streaming down his face as his spunk splatters over his thighs and Severus’ desk. He can’t even begin to recover, for Severus is still pounding into him, growling and cursing and praising him for the spectacle. It is almost too painful now his pleasure has culminated, but he hangs on to the edge of the desk, refusing to give up. 

He doesn’t have to hold on long; Severus’ voice pitches, and he slams into him one last time, staying there as hot, wet streams spurt inside him. They are both breathing heavily, almost like animals. Lucius’ hair has come out of his neatly tied ponytail. It’s knotted and stringy with sweat, and his scalp hurts from where it was pulled. He waits for Severus to slip out of him, and when he does, it takes him a minute or two before he can move.

He cracks his neck and holds his hands out for the balms and lotions he needs. When he finally turns around, Severus is standing by the door, looking for all the world like nothing out of the ordinary happened. 

“Do clean yourself up, Lucius,” he drawls. “I’ve never seen you on such a bad hairday.”


End file.
